


As chaos reigned

by notnatural



Series: Knocking on your door [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Hurt Alec, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sad Alec, Supportive Magnus Bane, just one and not that bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8663410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notnatural/pseuds/notnatural
Summary: Jace's disappearance leaves Alec feeling cold and it draws him, repeatedly, to Magnus Bane.





	

**Author's Note:**

> watch me acknowledge the canon trailers and take what I want from them and disregard the rest completely.

Magnus' apartment is an ode to his recurring personality Alec realizes, somewhere between the end of the world and now.

 

Jace going with Valentine made him feel more helpless than he'd anticipated. He'd always thought that losing anyone of his siblings would result in mind-numbing rage and panic settling in his bones in a way that wouldn't allow him to sit down unless it was to look over profiles or mission planning. Now all he feels is ice and a taste behind his tongue like blood and bile.

His eyes keep watering and his head is pounding with his pulse, churning against the sides of his skull. It feels as though his veins run cold with dirty water instead of blood - he's sick. It takes him four days after Jace's disappearance in the portal to let himself be excluded from any future missions - indefinitely. He barely sleeps and when he does he wakes up to a beating heart and a throat that feels like sandpaper. Isabelle is at his side, most nights. Dark eyes, most nights. It's Isabelle who talks to their parents and it's Isabelle who touches his cheek before she and Clary leave, her eyes glistening. He dresses down and resorts himself to training and eating and pretending to sleep.

He can feel Jace's despair and self-hatred in his gut and briefly, momentarily, in the quiet of blessedly sleepless nights, he wonders if it would be better if one of them just died. He wonders if it would let them feel pain for once, or just hollow more darkness out of his ribcage. Those are the nights he's drawn to Magnus' apartment.

The first time, it's almost possible to convince himself that it's a coincidence. Empty and cold and angry at himself Alec tears out of his room and through the dimly lit halls of the institute. Most floors are empty and he escapes without anyone taking notice. Most people have taken to ignore him anyway. He leaves the institute walking, not running. His vision dissolves and body-warm water pulls streaks down his cheeks, freezing in the night air. Alec is halfway to delirious when he reaches Magnus' apartment that looks extraordinarily insignificant from the outside. Maybe it's the power of his subconscious, maybe this has been where he wants to be for a long time. Alec is a master at ignoring his feelings.

 

The void in his chest feels not unlike child's quiet desperation in moments of misery - Alec reaching for the wonky 'Bane' button on the intercom has the same helpless feeling as a quivering lip and outstretched arms. Magnus' perfect host voice greeting him makes the metallic taste in the back of his throat lurch and curl into his skin and Alec supports himself with a hand against the door. When he speaks, his voice scratchy, he just says a name. There's buzz and the door clicks open.

His first time alone in Magnus's apartment, his first time without sorcery and demons and broken windows is appropriately uneventful. Magnus is dressed in shimmering light-green when he greets him at the door and there's something soft in his eyes that makes Alec fume and fall apart at the same time. Magnus' fingers curl in the air between them and his smile is insecure even as he bids his welcome.

"Alexander, to whom do I owe the pleasure of having you on my doorstep in the middle of the night?" he says, like Alec isn't being ripped apart inside, like Magnus hasn't lived long enough to see that.

Alec breathes deep and moves away from the door, following the dark walls in the hallway into the living room. He doesn't stop to check if Magnus follows, but he's pretty sure he can feel his hands twitch behind him with every step. Sinking down on one of the burgundy couches, Alec quietly wonders if the right thing wouldn't be to explain himself but he has passed the point of rude by now and Magnus sits down next to him, gingerly. He's never been this cautious.

They sit, in silence, while Alec collapses in on himself, swallowed by the hole in his chest until he sags, shoulders hunched over and head, by luck or convenience - or magic - fits into the dent between Magnus' chest and shoulder. Magnus, Magnus whose hands shake as they hover but are steady when they land on Alec's skin makes a soft, broken sound, like a hush, like a hum and leans them both back into the couch. Alec still feels cold but Magnus is burning. Alec is empty but Magnus is an enigma of broken hearts. Alec is silent, but so is Magnus.

The world holds its breath.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus' apartment is just an apartment Alec realizes, somewhere between the end of the world and now.

 

It's in Brooklyn and it's down-played and sort of trashy but it's just an apartment that a child of Lillith with glowing eyes has decided to call home - indefinitely, it seems. Alec wants to map out the place.

The second time he visits Magnus, he calls in advance. It's late and the impending black of his windows feels like it's closing in on Alec and he can feel a beginning constricting feeling in his chest. Alec doesn't get panic attacks, Shadowhunters don't have panic attacks but when he breathes it gets caught in his throat and there's a hole in his stomach and then - he's calling Magnus.

It rings only twice. Alec thinks he probably would've hung up if it had rung anymore and is, for a moment, thankful more than anything else.

" _Yes_?" Magnus' voice is in his ear and it's truly ridiculous but it feels a bit warm, just then, just hearing it. Then comes the shaky realization that Alec doesn't know what to say and the result is a stammering matter of nothings.

"I - uh. I mean - no, wait, hi. Magnus. Hi." His sentence ends in the middle of a breath, doesn't end the way most sentences should, but his tongue might be choking him so he stops. He concentrates on the wall he's facing and leans his weight on one hand. There's a beat of silence on the other end.

_"_ _Alexander? Hi. Hi, Alec."_

Alec breathes through his nose and sifts through the outcomes of his current situation in his mind. It's a nice way of putting things into boxes. Either he does this or he does this and he has to pick one, sink or swim. His eyes blink against the dark color of the wall.

"Magnus, I. I was, uh. Shit. Wondering - I thought - wondering if I could. Come over. Just. If I could talk. To you."

 

The silence is longer this time. He can't even hear Magnus breathing.

Fuck.

Ah, fuck.

 

"Nevermind, it's - god, it's fine, why would you - when I told you - fuck, Magnus, I - "

" _Alexander_."

He says his name like that, in that - curling - sort of way. Alex _ander_. Like his name is something unknown and possibly exciting, something that could be incredible if assessed correctly. Magnus says his name. Alec makes a soft noise, like a hum and he feels terrible, his forehead coming to rest against the back of his hand. There's something sharp and spiraling in his chest, like a pulse. Like a heartbeat, but not. Alec wonders, briefly, about Jace.

" _Alec. Come over. Wear a coat._ "

When Alec breathes out, it feels torn up like the inside of his throat is lined with barbs. He half expects to see the air clouded with bloody fumes, but there's nothing but the back of his hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus' apartment is a perfect balance between immortality and endings Alec realizes, somewhere between the end of the world and now.

 

Magnus is - quite - magical, eternal and explosive but as time in Alec's personal bubble-universe of hell moves along the side lines, he learns to read the excessive humanity behind the glamour. Magnus gets sentimental about his apartment after a period of time in the same environment - every time. He's sentimental about Brooklyn but he likes to redecorate and move around. Every time though, he eventually falls into a lull of human sentiment and leaves things at random. Unfolded blankets over the back of an arm chair. A foot rest, wonky from where he pushed it around with his heel. A thousand little things that could be cleared up and whisked away, quite literally with the flick of a wrist and yet are left where they are. Alec sort of loves it.

 

They spend his third night at Magnus' apartment talking and sitting, mostly. Magnus has the same couch as he had the last two times, but it's green now, a soothing color. Alec runs his fingers along the upholstery on the arm rest he's closest to and he hears Magnus advancing from behind.

"You know," he says, as he sits down at the other end of the couch, placing a steaming cup of something on the low table in front of them, "due to the spectral sensitivity of green, almost all people find it relaxing to look at. It's all to do with wavelength and stimulation of light cones. All very interesting." His tone is conversational and a little light but there's not really that much humor in it. He's got his own cup pressed to his chest. He is curled up, his feet tucked under him and he looks - prim. Magnus is not short and definitely not delicate and somehow, his ability to fold himself in that way makes him smaller, in an elegantly dignified sort of way. Alec looks down at where his legs stretch out and bend in front of him. He reaches for the mug.

Magnus laughs at the look Alec gives it down his nose and waves a slender hand. "It's harmless, darling. Even I am above spiking chai latte." Alec is about to retort that he would never accuse Magnus of spiking anything against his own knowledge and realizes, halfway through a breath, that it was probably a joke. He snaps his mouth shut and leans back, rests the cup just over his breast bone. The ceramic burns his hands slightly and he relishes in the sting. Beside him Magnus clears his throat  slightly but it's Alec who starts talking first.

"Why do mundanes call it chai?" He asks. Magnus cocks his head to one side and Alec swallows, blows over the mug. "Chai, uh. Tea. Chai latte and chai tea, it's just. Tea. Tea tea, right. Seems a bit unnecessary somehow. Right?" It feels sort of pathetic, coming out of his mouth, but it's out anyway. Magnus hums and Alec looks up to meet his eyes, bright and lively and only a little bit teasing, but that's fine, that's - good. Magnus shrugs and frowns into the air, like he's thinking hard.

"Well," he says and then "well" a bit more final. "I assume it's because of language differences from when tea originated. I mean, when the Chinese started drinking it, most of their folks' word for it must've been something like chá, I suppose. Like Mandarine and Cantonese. The big ones. But then there were other dialects, around Fujian and Indonesia and Malaysia, in which is was called teh. Most of the struggles in the world today originate from people disagreeing on what to name the same things. Right?"

Alec is smiling, a bit absent-mindedly, and nods. He wonders how many languages Magnus can speak, and how many he's forgotten. He doesn't ask but it's a thought. He breathes in the fumes and takes a sip of the mug. It's spicy, but not like chili, and sweet but not like sugar. It's nice. For one blinding moment, he thinks about Clary and Isabelle.

Magnus looks at him with measuring eyes and continues to talk. He talks about shipping now, about importation and the tea business in Northern America and Western Europe. Germany and Italy and France that all made business partners with companies stationed in Fujian where North American voyagers brought home tea from the north of China instead. He stops every once in a while to take small sips of the mug with pursed lips that turn red with the damp. Alec's cheeks feel warm too, from the fumes and the fire that Magnus had conjured somewhere between then and now. It's not until now, with heated skin, that he realizes how thoroughly cold he's been for a very long time.

When he finishes the tea he sets down the mug on the table in front of him and turns his attention back to Magnus, whose hands are animatedly drawing - not literally, though Alec wonders - a ship across the ocean in the air in front of him. Alec finds himself content with watching his silver rings glint in the yellow light from the fire.

Magnus stops talking eventually, and the atmosphere under the high ceiling is nice. Quiet. Alec feels like he's on simmer, like his there's still something nasty and terrible in palms and wrists but there's something else as well, that spreads out from his chest and warms him. That's what Magnus does to him, he realizes in a beat, makes him feel warm.

"Does it hurt?" Magnus asks and it's ironic for a second, because Alec knows what he means and feels a quick pang of cold sparks up his spine. But Magnus wouldn't ask if he wasn't genuinely concerned - or maybe he would and Alec doesn't care either way, it's hard to tell - so all Alec does is twist his hands together and breathe in.

"It does." He says and he finds that it's not all he can say. Not all he wants to say, for once. "Like nothing I've ever tried before. The bond, the parabatai thing it's - it's because of that I can feel him. More. When he's not here. More than when he is, you know?"

\- his breath feels too warm in his mouth but it's fine -

"But, but like, there have been times where I haven't known exactly where he was, right, when he was taking a walk or on an adrenaline hunt where I haven't know where he was but it never felt this, it never. It used to feel like an itch. Every time he was off somewhere, I'd get restless and uncomfortable and irrational, because I couldn't guarantee his safety, but I was fine. Now, it's - angels, Magnus, I think I can feel his heartbeat."

\- he's staring at his hands and his hands are shaking but it's fine, it's _fine_ -

"It's like a second pulse and the least it does, the only goddamn forsaken thing it does, is tell me he's alive, I know he's alive. He's breathing and living and it's the only hope I've got because I can - I can feel everything else as well. I know how sorry he is but not like - I mean, I can, I can feel it - and how angry he is and I know he fucking hates himself for what he's doing because I can feel everything he's feeling and all I can do is hope that he can feel what I feel as well. I don't know how to get him back. I don't think I've ever been to scared, Magnus, ever."

His hands are pressed to his chest now, pressing in on his heart and that other thing, that cold excited tapping under his skin that could be, should be, must mean that Jace is still alive. Alec isn't sure he'd be vertical if Jace was dead, - and there’s a fucking thought. Shadowhunters don't have panic attacks but Alec is fairly certain this is what one feels like. His breath feels like it’s solid, filling up his throat like cotton in a glass of water. The edges of his vision are blurry and a little dark. Alec breathes. He can't but he breathes and then there's a hand on his chest and one on his shoulder and Magnus is crouching in front of him.

"Alec." He says and his voice is a little foggy and a little far away but it's smooth and it doesn't waver and Alec holds onto that. That and Magnus' hands that are on both his shoulders now, not moving just holding, steadily. His thumbs pressing soothing little circles into his upper arms and his muscles shift and tighten beneath the skin.

"Alexander," Magnus says, his voice persistent. "I'm sorry. Alec, look at me, now." Alec blinks his way to focus on Magnus' face and he brings both hands up around it - to bring it into focus maybe. His breath is coming in little shallow puffs but his vision is clearing now and that makes it so much easier to hang on to the details of Magnus' expression in front of him.

The glitter around his eyes is smudged on his left cheek as well, apparently by accident and Alec runs a thumb around the sparkles. Then, like a sudden idea, he runs the same finger over Magnus' jaw, following the bone structure with a digit, tracing it. It works like morphine. His left thumb is on Magnus' chin, his right resting on his neck and he's dusting light touches over brown skin and it works. He's fine. He's breathing.

"Alexander." Magnus says and Alec thinks he might never get enough of Magnus saying his name. He looks away from Magnus' lips to his eyes that are wide and, to Alec's discomfort, sorrowful.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up, I," Magnus looks so brutally honest it actually hurts Alec a little, "I just wondered, that's all. I should've known." Alec nods. He's shaking. He reckons it was a matter of time before something would spill over, all that terrible energy trashing around in his core was bound to flame up eventually and for the time being, Alec is infinitely grateful for Magnus as Magnus, and not as a warlock. Hands curl a bit tighter around his arms, as if to hold him where he is.

"Tell me what you need." Magnus' voice is soft. So is his mouth against Alec's thumb so he leans in slowly, slowly and meets his own to it.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus' apartment is very conveniently placed where it is Alec decides somewhere between the end of the world and now.

 

Of all the things Magnus has mastered over the years, of all his magics and wonders, cooking just doesn't seem to be one of them. He seems to be on wonderful first name basis with most of the restaurant owners three blocks in all directions. That wonderful Ethiopian place on 44th is the ground floor of a tall building, with low ceilings and creamy walls. They visit it late, but earlier than what Alec is used to see Magnus and it's nice, for a change, to see the sun light up from somewhere underneath the rounding horizon while being with him. It's nice.

They walk there, one evening, half a foot-stance in between their shoulders but close enough so that Alec can feel Magnus' coat brush up against him in between steps. He's staring at their feet as they walk, pretending he doesn't notice Magnus noticing his glances every once in a while. There's a sharp twinge of something in his stomach every time they make eye contact and Alec isn't sure where to even start comprehending what it means.

There's that little spark of interest and heat that comes every time he so much as looks at Magnus. Despite his limitations and deeply seated anxiety and everything else that claws at Alec's shoulders when he doesn't pay attention, he wants to know about Magnus. He doesn't even know where he was born. He wants to know if he dresses like that for fashion or comfort or political reasons. About Camille Belcourt although her name makes something in Alec stomach cramp and he feels like he's actually driven mad with jealousy. He wants to know about his parents and all the ugly parts that make Magnus' eyes darken when he thinks no one is looking. It's like an itch.

There's the warmth that spreads through him every time Magnus looks directly at him. The flushing in his cheeks but also his shoulders and wrists and neck that heat up and soften and bloom like opening flowers and it's ridiculous but he feels like ruffling his feathers under a gaze like that.

And there's guilt.

There's the guilt but even that comes from a million different places. He keeps seeing Magnus' eyes shattering in front of him, bone-dry but brimming over with disappointment and hurt and something like contempt. Spitting remarks that stinged worse than demon poison, so horribly obvious that Alec would've been impressed with Magnus' total lack of care for the audience if he wasn't so busy trying not to do something stupid like scream or beg for forgiveness. Magnus had done exactly nothing to deserve the cold Alec had given him and the confusion in his eyes every time they met across the institute felt like lead in Alec's heels.

Then there's guilt because of the wedding. Guilt because of abandoning Lydia, who had become slightly more than platonic ex-fiancee to him. Guilt because of kissing Magnus even though he couldn't imagine what a man like him would've wanted to happen with an entrance like that. Kissing Magnus hadn't been something as great as a declaration of their undying love but he couldn't pretend it was nothing more than a statement. It was a decision, a bet. A locked little personal bubble, that seemed to stretch and bend in unnatural dimensions of time and shared breath and had sizzled in Alec's bones for hours, like a high. It had made him crash that much harder when seeing Camille Belcourt pressed up against Magnus in his loft, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Guilt because of the last kiss as well, which was soft and close-lipped and tasted like cinnamon. The shine in Magnus’s eyes had been enough to take the breath from Alec’s lungs all over again and he hadn’t wanted to pull away. He did in the end, but there was another kiss, one that lasted longer and just felt like desperation.

There's guilt because of what he's doing now, clinging on to Magnus' company, like it's the only thing keeping him on his feet. It is the only thing keeping him on his feet, but Alec wants desperately to let Magnus know that he _wants_ it, too, that it's a choice. He wants to know if Magnus is just humoring him - out of pity.

And finally guilt because being with Magnus makes him happy, even for short moments and now, with Jace gone and hurting, he feels he should be the last person in the world allowed to feel happy.

They walk there, one evening, in silence and although most things in Alec's life are automatically made awkward by his general being there, he doesn't make an effort to start a conversation. Partly because he doesn't want to inevitably fail, but mostly because it's not often he gets to study Magnus in silence and he certainly can't when they're with company. So he appreciates the quiet accompanied by the constant noise of the rest of the world and let's his eyes linger on the curve of Magnus' jaw where his finger had trailed along glittery powder a few nights before.

As if on cue, Magnus twists his head a bit, eyes bright in the twilight.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asks and Alec is, momentarily, knocked completely out of the loop. Magnus' eyes genuinely shine at him and he wonders if he should make an attempt to actually talk. He blanches and looks at Magnus with escalating horror in his eyes before the warlock pulls his hands out of the pockets in his coat to hold them up in front of him, his smile only slightly diabolical.

"Alright, shadowhunter," he says, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners and he looks delighted, "no personal reflection, I understand." Before Alec gets to make a retort that probably would've been embarrassing anyway, Magnus is stopping a bit abruptly in front of a place with wide panorama windows in the walls on either side of a narrow door. He opens it with his back to it, still looking at Alec like Alec's the brightest thing in his life at the moment. The door opens and Alec feels sort of enveloped for a moment, yellow warmth and a thousand delectable scents wafting out of the open space. He walks past Magnus and silently revels in the way that he’s just that bit taller than him.

Then Magnus does a flourish with his arm and says 'monsieur' and Alec is back to blushing.

The place is small at first sight, but as Alec ducks his head and leans to one side, he can see that the dark brown tables continue way back, like the restaurant stretches farther than first assumed. Magnus shrugs his coat off so Alec decides to follow suit, keeping as close to Magnus as he deems possible without actually rubbing up against his back. There aren't that many customers in the restaurant and most of them near the windows so Magnus very obviously makes way to the back. Alec follows without complaint. They slow to a stop next to a table and Magnus looks up with a finger on the cloth, presumably to ask Alec if it's okay they sit there when his eyes are caught by something over Alec's shoulder. He grins widely and his eyes crinkle until they almost close. He says a name, Abdi, just as Alec turns around.

There's a man leaning against the corner they just rounded, with dark, dark skin and gold rings in both ears. He has brilliant elongated features, high cheek bones, slanting eyes and long, thin fingers that are waving, now, in Alec's direction. Alec lifts a hand, feeling only slightly stupid, and waves back. The man - Abdi - disappears around the corner again. Magnus is smiling when Alec turns around and hangs his jacket on the edge of a chair. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder.

"You know him?"

Magnus looks up and nods, seemingly all fondness, his eyes warm.

"Abdimelech. I knew his ancestors well." He gestures with both hands for Alec to sit down and does the same. Alec pulls the chair in and leans forward a bit, still not through asking.

"So were you like... Their - their warlock? You know?" He reels in a little, when Magnus arches an eyebrow. "No, I just meant - what you were to us. Before we were friends, you were sort of our. Uh. Go-to-warlock." It's possible he's violently digging his own grave as they speak but Magnus just smiles widely and folds his hands on the table.

"I was his great-grandfather's friend but yeah, also his 1-800-warlock. Abdi doesn't know that, though, my connection to the family got lost between time and immigration. I just like to keep track of my people." Alec nods. None of them say anything then and Magnus slides his hand up and around an empty water glass while Alec unabashedly stares at him, silently awed, as always. The short silence is broken by a quiet patter of feet on the tiled floor and Alec looks away as a woman walks up to their table.

She's short and round and her eyes are really too green. The chocolate brown locks that fall in front of her eyes look infinitely soft and when she grins at Magnus it's with eyes full of inside knowledge and an old kind of love. She hands them a menu each, her eyes landing on Alec's hands when he thanks her. He feels _considered_ with Abdi's knowing little wave and the waitress's eyes measuring him up. He's a little flushed when she leaves.

"Do you know everyone?" He breathes behind his open menu. Magnus has a hand lifted elegantly to his mouth, like he can't really take anything seriously.

"Lily is a faerie friend of mine. She's almost harmless, I promise." He says, looking at Alec under his eyelashes, bending his head towards the menu. The rest of their date - for some reason, it’s the only name Alec has for it - is mostly spent in quiet fascination, on Alec’s part, and in passionate storytelling, on Magnus’s. Alec doesn’t spend the night but there’s a moment outside of the apartment, a short one when they say goodnight, with something sweeter and thicker than syrup in the air where he wants nothing more than to know what it feels like, waking up next to Magnus.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes Magnus' apartment is just too far away.

Those nights hurt.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus’s apartment is a refuge Alec realizes, somewhere between now and the end of the world.

 

They don’t talk about _them_ as much as they probably should. There’s a quiet electricity in the air between them at all times, that keeps Alec - and Magnus too, he supposes - from ever being anything but alert. Alec has always been quietly aware of too many things that didn’t make sense. He’s always lacked the social overview that makes innuendos and sarcasm fly right over his head, but picked up on minuscule drops in mood and tone and eye contact that never seemed to register with anyone else. It used to make him feel like he was in a parallel reality to everyone else, which made Jace and Izzy his only connection to the real world. Now, with _Magnus_ here, close and real and interested, Alec feels as if he’s been dropped in something the rest of the world has had their entire lives to figure out before him. He talks to Magnus about Jace, about the parabatai bond and his parents but he talks to his sister about Magnus.

It’s early, as it usually is, when Isabelle finds him in the training room. He hears her enter behind him but continues to work with the brandistock, thrusting the staff into the air and locking the blades in place. It’s simple, wonderfully balanced as he twirls it around his wrist, dainty in the same way his bow and arrow is. He enjoys the elegance of it and much more the inverse proportionality to how much damage it can do. Isabelle’s feet drag on the training room mat and he breathes, once, twice, before yanking the staff backwards, blades slipping back inside. Alec turns around.

“You’re feeling better?” Isabelle says, and there’s nothing ambiguous about her tone, none of the accusation that Alec has felt for himself since he started talking to Magnus. There’s just - hope. Isabelle’s eyes are bright and crinkling and Alec feels blown away by the light in them. He does something with his head that starts out as a nod and rolls down his neck to settle as half a shrug and Isabelle laughs, nodding.

“Yeah, I know that one.” She steps out onto the training mat and Alec, realizing she’s not in work-out clothes, is suddenly afraid she’s going to try to hug him so he sits down, abruptly, and stretches out his legs, working out the tension along the calves. Isabelle joins him on the floor and for a while they don’t say anything. Her hair is let down and unbrushed, falling over her eyes when she bends her head. Her face is without make-up and she looks younger than Alec has ever seen her. He thinks, looking at her in glances, that that’s always what happens when your siblings are sad. You realize how young they are. Alec is digging his thumb in just below the knee when Isabelle speaks again.

“So how is Magnus?”

Alec doesn’t flinch, because Alec has been trained to kill demons since he was eight and he is in complete control over his motor skills so Alec doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even raise his eyes to look at Izzy and his fingers keep massaging the muscle on the side of his knee but his blood is roaring. It’s a bit silly, of course, because Isabelle has seen Alec grab Magnus by the coat lapels and kiss him until both of them were breathless at his own wedding and Isabelle is smarter than most people in the first place and still - _still_ . Talking to his sister about boys hasn’t been a thing for a bit more than twenty years. He doesn’t know _how_.

When he doesn’t answer, Isabelle sighs and it makes Alec a little happy to know that after everything that’s happening, she still thinks he’s an idiot.

“I assume that’s where you’ve been going, anyway. Or should I be worried?”

Alec looks up then. He looks at Izzy with wide eyes. “Me spending my nights with the high warlock of Brooklyn doesn’t worry you?”

His sister shrugs.

“It was a matter of time I suppose.” Then she bites her lip and squints her eyes at the floor. Her voice is soft when she speaks again. “But- I mean. Does it help?” Alec looks down again and goes to work on his other leg, groaning when he presses in on a knot under the skin. He makes a questioning sound and Isabelle gestures randomly with long fingers. “Does he make you happy?” Alec stops.

“Yes,” he says, immediately. He stutters out a breath and there’s a contradiction halfway out of his mouth because feelings, profound feelings for anyone who aren’t family they - they confuse him. They make him feel confused and pent-up and a little bit wrong but at the same time, seeing Magnus is just nice. Seeing Magnus makes him feel warm and sometimes he thinks Magnus might be his only source of happiness other than Isabelle.

“Yes.” He says again and Isabelle is grinning. The next word, “But,” is almost painful, just because of the change in her expression, eyebrows curving in a worried line.

His fingers still on his legs as he squints in concentration, arranging sentences before saying them.

“I think… I don’t want to bother him.”

 

Isabelle sighs, in Alec’s opinion, a bit dramatically.

 

“You are the dumbest-" 

“I _just_ mean-” he interjects. “That he might be doing this out of pity.”

“Doing what?” Isabelle asks, tipping her head forward. “Spending time with you? Spoiling you? Letting you be the big spoon?”

“ _Izzy_ , we haven’t - don’t - “

“ _Dios_ , brother, he crashed your wedding. Your _wedding_. A room full of shadowhunters, several ones who hate downworlders. For you. What more do you need?”

Alec avoids her eyes. He doesn’t know what more he needs. He needs a lot, usually. When it comes to things like this, general human interaction even, he needs explicit declarations of everything. Nothing can be left unspoken. Isabelle knows this. His parents know this. Jace knew this, better than anyone. But Magnus doesn’t and it’s a problem.

“I need - “ he says and stops. Thinks. “I need Jace back. I need to get him back.”

Isabelle falters a little. She reaches a hand out and he leans against it when she touches his cheek.

“I know. We’ll get him back.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus’s apartment is an agency Alec realizes, somewhere between the end of the world and now.

It’s an agency for Magnus’s business, for his clients to come and be intimidated by the extravaganza. It’s a _base_ where Magnus is at his best, his most powerful and Alec knows why he always settles deals at home. One day though, after four hours of sleep Alec enters the hall, restless and itchy and uncomfortable with the mass of people flitting around him. Lydia spots him through a hologram screen and flicks something away, leaving the shadowhunter at her side. She approaches him in long strides.

 

“So, I should’ve told you, I know. But I didn’t see the point and there wasn’t really time and I don’t - you know. I should have told you.”

 

Alec frowns down at her, wonders what has happened but then there’s a group of people rounding a far-off corner and it’s -  it’s not even funny how quickly and completely Magnus draws all his attention and pushes until he’s the only thing worth focusing on. He’s discussing with Isabelle and Clary, talking in quick, professional sentences, eyes hard-set and clever and Alec sort of sways where he stands.

“Alec?” Lydia sounds cautious. She looks tired, worn-out and erratic. Staying at the institute is a show of newfound loyalty to the Lightwood name. Lydia fights out of honor before anything else and Alec respects her for that, finds her strength admirable but he’s worried she might actually wear herself out to the point of exhaustion if it ever came down to battle - he might tell her to go find a warlock to pester, but he’s not the type of person to do that. He expects Izzy to catch on soon, though.

He nods and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, no, it’s - it’s fine, Lydia. It’s fine. Really.”

It really is. She looks unconvinced. Alec decides to drop it.

“Why did you call for Magnus?” He asks instead, following him out of the corner of his eye. If Magnus has noticed him he doesn’t show it, leading the small cluster of people like he owns the place, like the glitter on his cheekbones and the nail polish and the chains around his neck are a matter of course. He _asserts_ himself. Alec feels heat under his skin.

“We wanted to try tracking again. On your brother.”

The more time passing, the less can Alec feel in their parabatai bond. There’s no cold, no second heartbeat, no sickly excited patting under his skin that makes his insides scream and it’s partially a relief and partially terrifying. Alec finds consolation in the fact if Jace was dead, he’d feel something worse. Alec finds consolation in Magnus and tries not to feel guilty about it.

Alec notices the shirt in Magnus’s hand. It’s Jace’s hoodie - light gray, Alec knows what the fabric feels like, supple and soft in the washed-out way. Something twists in his stomach.

With Lydia by his side, he approaches the table where Isabelle is pulling holograms up in front of them, docks and bridges. Behind her Magnus is bathed in blue light, his fingers stuttering to a halt, sparks flying from the hoodie. He looks puzzled, of all things.

“Anything?” Alec asks and the quiet agitation in his tone is so different from what he’s used to with Magnus lately. The knot in his stomach churns a little.

Magnus lowers his hand and folds the hoodie gently. His fingers toy with the string, thoughtfully.

“I can’t feel him.” He says. Alec releases a breath, shoulders slumping forward.

“This is unbelievable.” Isabelle and Clary are watching him with wary eyes. Magnus makes a soft sound and gives him a look, half-way to challenging.  “There has to be something. Anything.”

“Alec.” There’s a warning buried somewhere in Lydia’s voice and Alec disregards it completely, backing away from the table on shaking legs.

“No, I just - I need to know that they are people - he needs to be a priority.” Several shadowhunters look at him through holograms, leaning out behind their control panels. He addresses them too, addresses no one in particular. “Any news on Jace needs to go to me. I need to know everything you find out. Immediately. I need-”

“You _need_ to calm down.” Lydia says and Alec whips around, objection on his tongue but - Lydia’s standing, a head below him and with fire in her eyes. Her jaw is set and her fists are curled at her side and Alec knows that she’s right and she’s - she’s the head of the institute anyway.

“You’re dismissed.” She says and Alec turns on his heel, heads straight for the training room. He was making _progress_ , he was _handling things_ and one tiny set-back fucked him up. His skin is jittery and he’s hyper aware of his surroundings - the shift in the light as he leaves the control room,muted sounds ricocheting off the walls - so he’s still in the hallway when he hears footsteps falling in with his own. He rounds a corner and turns.

 

Magnus stops, arms poised elegantly out from his sides. His fingers rub together and Alec wonders if it’s a nervous habit.

 

“What?” He asks, but his brain forgets to supply the question mark and it comes out hostile. Magnus arches an eyebrow and his expression is noble, a royal ‘ _first of all, fuck you_ ’ that Alec can’t help but admire.

“We need to talk.” Alec thinks he might have heard Isabelle talk about this particular sentence with dread in her voice. It feels refreshing to him, if anxiety-inducing - but what isn’t, these days.

Alec nods and leans his shoulder against the wall. Magnus listens for possible interjections and then nods in response, satisfied.

“I want to help you, Alexander. You and your sister. I want to help you find your brother. That _is_ a priority.”

Alec nods, doesn’t wince at the sound of his own words. Magnus continues.

“I also want to take you out on dates. And spoil you and make you happy. If I may.”

Alec is used to being left out in social situations, but usually Magnus makes sense, in his own way. Now all Alec can do is frown through the dim light.

“I spoke to your sister.”

 

There it is.

 

“I’m not a beck and call boy.

“Magnus, I - “

“I’m not finished.” Magnus moves a bit closer, eyes searching. Alec stands his ground. “I am centuries old, Alexander. I am a _big_ supporter of self-indulgence. I don’t claim to be the poster boy for self-respect, but I do not devote my every waking hour to a shadowhunter or to _anyone else_ if I don’t want to do it.”

Magnus is right in front of him. There’s nothing threatening about him, nothing angry - nothing like Alec has been, nothing like he has a right to be. Just cool reassurance. This needs to be said. This has been needed to be said for weeks. Alec falls a little bit deeper into whatever Magnus has him in.

“I want you to come to me whenever you feel like it. I want you to want it. I don’t pity you, Alexander, I care about you. Do you believe that?”

His voice is softer now. Alec nods, slowly. Magnus has stopped speaking and is looking up at him now, questions in his eyes. Alec breathes and fumbles for words.

“I want - it. With you, it’s. You make me feel good and I feel so _guilty_ , Magnus, but I - it’s fine. It’s fine. I, uh. You know. You too.”

It’s the closest Alec has ever come to a declaration of love. It’s weird and he feels stupid saying it but Magnus just smiles, a little private smile that makes Alec’s chest swell.

“I’m here if you need me, Alexander. If you want me, that is. Now and right until the end of the world.”

  



End file.
